


at least, out loud...

by GreenyLove



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Autistic Kageyama Tobio, Awkward Crush, Canon Compliant, Demisexual Kageyama Tobio, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Thoughts, Disney Movies, Fluff and Humor, Internal Conflict, KageHina Week 2020, M/M, Movie Night, POV Kageyama Tobio, Pining, Team Fluff, Unresolved Emotional Tension, tobio fears his own thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/pseuds/GreenyLove
Summary: “Oh my god, Hinata, he looks just like you!” Nishinoya shouts, pointing at the screen, where Hercules destroys an entire market by accident. “I think...I think he is you.”Tanaka pipes up. “Yo, Hinata, you should totally dress up as Hercules for Halloween!”Tobio has no idea what anyone says beyond that, because his mind is fully consumed by the thought of Hinata Shouyou in a toga.A very short toga.(Karasuno has a movie night. Tobio suffers.)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 200
Collections: Kagehina Week 2020





	at least, out loud...

**Author's Note:**

> kagehina week 2020 day 2: films
> 
> me: hinata looks like disney hercules  
> lizard brain: tell me more
> 
> note: work is tagged underage because while there is no actual sexual interaction and kageyama's dirty thoughts are VERY mild, kageyama and hinata are under 18.

The week in Tokyo makes many things clear: as a team, Karasuno has come far in a short amount of time. If they want to compete at the national level, Ukai cautions, there is much farther still to go. Something about gears and cogs and becoming a machine. Kageyama likes that metaphor. It makes sense to him — when he plays, he sets the ball so the Karasuno machine functions to the best of its ability. His teammates are parts of a whole and he will engineer them efficiently. Even Hinata, whose hunger for the ball is almost beyond reckoning, starts to see beyond a single play and think more critically about his movements.

That doesn’t mean Tobio sets for him any less frequently. The only thing more viciously satisfying than pulling off their freak quick is Hinata’s expression when they lock eyes after they score. The fire is still there, but tempered. Honed. Now the quick is a shared thing, a power they control equally, and that knowledge is intoxicating. It stays in his head long after practice ends. 

Ukai runs practices with diligent intensity. When they all hunch over, sweaty and sore, muscles humming, it’s Takeda-sensei who addresses a different aspect of their training. 

“Team bonding!” he announces one afternoon. Tobio frowns. They’ve been practicing combination plays for the last ninety minutes. Isn’t that enough group work for now? 

Apparently not. It becomes rapidly clear that Takeda-sensei is not talking about a volleyball drill. “As you know, one of the most important things we need to improve before the qualifiers is your chemistry as a team. That means polishing all the skills you’ve been working on with Ukai-san, but it also means building camaraderie. Trust. _Brotherhood._ ” 

Someone gasps. “Blood pact!” 

“Noya, _no.”_

Beside him, Hinata vibrates. Tobio doesn’t need to glance over to know he’s gone starry-eyed. (He doesn’t _need_ to, but he looks anyway, and ignores the twist in his stomach.) 

Daichi bows apologetically to Takeda-sensei, then folds his arms across his chest. “Actually, Suga and I thought a movie night would be a more reasonable place to start. Ennoshita has kindly volunteered his home, this Saturday night. We will walk over together after practice. Third years will take care of food, so second years, bring soda —” 

Tobio tunes him out. He was hoping for another training camp, or perhaps a surprise practice game against a worthy opponent. Movie night is a landscape of unknowns — he’s an only child, neither of his parents regularly used the old TV in the den, so neither did Tobio, much preferring to be in his room or practicing volleyball. Honestly, he would still prefer to stay in his room or practice volleyball. 

Hinata jumps up and taps the top of the doorframe on their way to the club room. “I’m gonna bring the best movie snack! At least ten kinds of candy!” 

“If there are ten different kinds, which one is the best?” Tobio shoots back. He shoves Hinata up the stairs. 

The decoy shoves back. “I bet you like _boring old man candy,_ like chocolate-covered raisins.” 

Tobio does not flush. He does _not_ glare at the wall. 

“Gross! Nastyama!” 

“Shut up, scrub!”

He shoves him again; the cycle continues. They change and join the team as they spill out into the evening, walking to Ukai's store as a group before splitting off. Tobio follows Hinata one block farther than needed, to the main intersection where one road stretches off towards the mountain and another twists down the hillside, further into town. They bicker more about candy, then about kinds of fruit, then about zoo animals. Tobio has only been to the zoo once and never fed a giraffe, which seems to horrify Hinata on a personal level. 

When they reach the intersection Hinata touches him again but...less aggressively. A brush of his hand across Tobio’s knuckles, white where they unconsciously grip his bag. A light touch, quick as a dragonfly landing and darting away. “Don’t be nervous about movie night, Yamayama.” 

“I-I’m not?” Why is his heart racing? What is there to worry about? 

Hinata tilts his head, staring at Tobio, and for a brief moment Tobio can almost tell what he’s thinking, but it slips away when he blinks. Brown eyes dart to the sky, to the street behind them. Anywhere but Tobio’s face. Hinata settles onto his bike and winds his scarf tighter around his neck. “I’ll save you a seat, okay? So you better sit next to me! See you tomorrow!” 

Tobio blinks. He feels behind, somehow, like they’ve been speaking different languages and he’s only now realized. He manages to call out, “Bye,” but Hinata can’t hear him. He’s too far away, a blurry streak of blue and orange disappearing up the road. 

# 

Saturday comes. Practice passes faster than Tobio would like. He isn’t dreading movie night, but he’s felt unsettled since the middle of that morning’s optional math block, when he remembered that he wouldn’t be returning home after practice but instead would go somewhere completely new, to watch movies he’s probably never seen, with people he only really interacts with on the court. 

He knows that’s the point. He knows he will be uncomfortable. But there has never been an option for Tobio other than being the best at volleyball, and if cramming into a room with his rambunctious teammates will improve their game, he’ll do it. 

Turns out, they don’t have to cram anywhere. Ennoshita has a spacious home, tucked on the corner of a quiet street a short bus ride from the school. His mother greets them as they troop inside, waving off Daichi’s attempts to express gratitude. 

“Oh, no, it’s our pleasure,” she reassures him, hooking her arm around Ennoshita and smoothing the wrinkles out of his sleeve. “Chira-kun is blessed with a wonderful team. It is the least we can do.” 

Ennoshita turns red. Daichi preens. 

They are herded into the den, a wide low-ceiling room with a plush sectional couch. Nishinoya and Tanaka drool over the entertainment center while Ennoshita grins, smug, and brags about the settings on the sound system. Hinata surveys the room for a few seconds before grabbing Tobio’s arm and yanking him forward. 

“Come on!” he urges, as if Tobio has a choice. He drags them to the far end of the room and shoves Tobio down on the end of the couch. His elbow jars against the arm rest and he nearly bites through his tongue. “This is the best spot.” 

Tobio wants to fight him, indignant, ready to disagree purely on principle. Hinata cuts him off with a throw pillow to the face. “Trust me!” he insists, counting off reasons on his fingers. “You can see the TV, but no one else can sit next to you, and you can get up and walk around without crossing in front of the screen, and you are near a window, and I know you like that.”

There are too many things for his brain to review at once, so he picks the most important one. “No one _else_ can sit next to me?” 

Again, that strange unknowable thing flits through Hinata’s eyes before it’s replaced by something sly. “Where’d you think I was gonna sit?” 

Before he can process that, let alone make any words with his mouth, Hinata plops down next to him. Their legs jostle together and Tobio almost takes an elbow to the rib as Hinata wrestles out of his jacket. 

“Dumbass,” he hisses, his throat much tighter than it should be. 

Hinata won’t look at him, but he snaps back, “What? Did you want someone else to sit next to you? Gonna snuggle up with Stingyshima?”

The blond in question whips around to glare at them over the top of his glasses, pointing his finger in a wordless _stay the fuck away from me_. Yamaguchi perks around him, mimicking Tsukishima’s glare. 

Sugawara sweeps in before either pair can speak, a stack of movies in his hand. “Settle in, youngsters. This evening we have selected a series of highly distinguished films from the days of our youth...” 

“Disney movies,” Daichi explains calmly. Sugawara slaps his free hand over the captain’s mouth. 

“Masterpieces of animation! Filled with nostalgia! Life changing works of art!” 

Noya reaches over and pats Asahi on the shoulder. “In other words, the only genre this big softie can watch without getting nightmares.” 

Asahi blushes, but nods. “I’m very impressionable.”

“So wait, you didn’t get nightmares from Tarzan?” Tanaka asks. “Because that shit fucked me up.” 

Noya gasps. “Dude, _A Bug’s Life?_ ” 

_“Dude.”_

Sugawara waves his arms, collecting their attention back on him. “Quiet! We will not be viewing the sad monkey movie, because I promised Asahi this would be a safe space.” 

“Suga, they’re _gorillas.”_

“Have some respect, bruh.”

One loud grumble from Daichi kills the banter, everyone cowed by the authoritative set of his shoulders. “We will all be respectful of each other and this space during the movies. Look around the room. See what nice condition it’s in? The room will look _exactly like this_ when we go home tonight. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, Captain!” 

“The only other rules are no _excessive_ singing, and no roughhousing,” he pauses for a meaningful glance at a certain pair of second years, who determinedly avoid his gaze. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, dad.” A loud smack. “Captain!” 

Daichi smiles, satisfied, and finds a seat while Sugawara and Ennoshita fiddle with the TV. Snacks, bottled drinks, spare cushions and blankets are passed around until the entire team is settled. Noya and Tanaka sprawl on either side of Asahi, who sits on the floor in front of Sugawara, graciously letting the setter braid his hair. Yamaguchi sits on the other end of the couch with the rest of the second years, talking shyly with Narita, Tsukishima curled up on his other side, picking out all the chocolate out of a bag of trail mix and passing them quietly to his freckled friend. 

Tobio very quickly loses the ability to focus on much more than his own seating arrangement; specifically, Hinata’s thigh, which is pressed firmly against Tobio. 

He’s so warm. Of course he would be, he’s always in motion, always fidgeting or hopping around or running or flying. Of course his base body temperature would run higher.

Tobio doesn’t know what to _do_ with this information, or with his hands, clenched on the throw pillow pressed across his lap.

The main menu pops up on the TV screen, the word _Hercules_ in thick, gold lettering. Someone kills the lights, and for a moment Tobio relaxes, because now at least Hinata can’t see him, can’t read into _whatever_ is happening with his face right now. 

Ennoshita hits play. On the floor, Tanaka and Nishinoya massacre a bag of licorice twists, despite Asahi’s warning against stomach cramps. Sugawara tucks a large blanket across his lap _and_ Daichi’s, which the captain does not protest, possibly because he is caught too off-guard for his mouth to work. 

Tobio relates. He relates hard. 

The first twenty minutes pass harmlessly. Pudgy baby Hercules plays with clouds, muses narrating predictable family drama. Tobio has never seen this movie but he isn’t hating it — ancient western folklore and culture is one of his favorite units in world history, more for the Olympic games than anything else.

He’s almost sucked in to the plot, curious if scrawny young Hercules will ever get his immortality back. Scrawny, brassy-haired, clumsy Hercules…

“Oh my god, Hinata, he looks just like you!” Nishinoya shouts, pointing at the screen, where Hercules destroys an entire market by accident. “I think...I think he is you.” 

Hinata grins and puffs out his chest. “I could totally be the son of Zeus!” 

Somewhere across the room, Tobio thinks Tsukishima is choking to death. Or possibly dying from laughter. Tobio frowns. “Dumbass, it’s because you're a clumsy idiot. You _would_ trip and knock down a building.” 

“Uh! Would not!” 

Tanaka pipes up. “Also, you know. The physical resemblance is pretty uncanny. Yo, Hinata, you should totally dress up as Hercules for Halloween!” 

Tobio’s life shortens by several years.

The whole team laughs at the mental image. Nishinoya offers to dress as _the dope goat dude_ , and it’s quickly agreed that only Sugawara could be Pegasus because he’s the only one pretty enough. Asahi helpfully points out that it would be an easy costume to make, and full disclosure, Tobio has no idea what anyone says beyond that, because his mind is fully consumed by the thought of Hinata Shouyou in a toga. 

A _very short toga._

His mouth dries out completely, eyes going glossy. It should be difficult to picture Hinata’s body, and yet — Tobio watches him, all the time. Marks him when they race, is constantly aware of him on the court, is drawn to him during drills as he critiques and corrects his form. 

In reality, conjuring up Hinata is effortless, and that’s a confusing realization, but he can only deal with one personal crisis at a time, and Hinata in a toga wins. Obliterates everything else. 

In the movie, Hercules is tall and bony, all arms and legs. Hinata is smaller but they share the same...whipcord strength. The compact muscles. Hinata isn’t tan but he’s darker than Tobio, constantly bruised and knee-scraped and sun-spotted from barreling headfirst through the world. White fabric would look good on him, smooth out his rough edges.

In his mind, Tobio imagines how the toga would gather on his shoulder, how _little_ of his neck and clavicle it would cover. How it would swoop across his chest, the smooth pecs and solid core he’s caught glimpses of in the club room. Most of the toga’s fabric gathers at the waist, cinched tightly around hips. Hinata has a small waist; it would be interesting to hold him, to trace the sharp cut of his hip bones with a firm thumb — 

_Fuck_ — he crossed a line. Tobio sits in silent shock. Picturing Hinata in a weird dress is one thing, but _touching_ him? On purpose? 

Like water through a floodgate, intrusive thoughts pour in: Hinata is right next to him. Their bodies are touching from shoulder to knee. Hinata is so warm, even through their clothes. Tobio could touch him, could touch him right now. Could drag him onto his lap and press his fingers into the hollows of his collarbone. Could test the strength of his thighs against his hands. 

Tobio must be having a cardiac episode. He has never felt so out of breath while sitting still.

“Okay, ‘yama?” 

To his credit, Tobio does not scream or jump away or burst into fever sweats when Hinata pokes his arm. Even though his blood feels acidic, his whole body charged with unpredictable energy. Even though he cannot confidently say he understands his own thoughts. Only through great self-discipline does he hold his composure. 

“Of course,” he stammers, eyes narrowing. 

The lights from the screen paint Hinata’s edges and angles blue and pink and green, but his eyes are curiously dark. “You’re making a mess.” 

“Hah?” Tobio glances at his fist. At some point he must have taken a handful of popcorn from one of the many dishes circulating the group. Now it’s a greasy mess, crushed between his fingers. Hinata, the cheeky little pipsqueak, plucks a still-edible piece out of his palm and pops it between his lips. His very pink lips, damp and probably sticky from the sports drink tucked in his lap. 

_Fuck._

“I need to leave,” Tobio wheezes out. He feels Hinata tense beside him, and before he can panic, adds, “Wash my hand.” 

Hinata gives him a long look but doesn’t object, returning his attention to the movie. Slipping to his feet and out of the room, Tobio briefly panics when he realizes he has no idea where the bathroom is. Murmured voices from a room down the hall suggests _kitchen_ , so he heads the opposite way. Fate is kind; the door opens to a small but tidy washroom, with an unlit candle and fresh pile of hand towels next to the sink. 

The ritual of hand-washing helps. It centers him, the sharp citrus of the hand soap cutting through the fog clouding his mind. He looks strange. Like himself and unlike himself. Tobio has never seen himself turn red from...what is this, attraction? Arousal? It feels like too fizzy to be mere embarrassment, like a shaken-up soda can jammed between his lungs. 

Hinata is frustrating. 

A puzzle box he hasn’t solved yet. 

A boy with athletic ability and enthusiasm and bullheadedness...who also pays a surprising amount of attention to Tobio. He knew about Tobio’s movie night nerves before Tobio did, and thought hard enough about seating arrangements to recognize that would make Tobio comfortable. 

Hinata Shouyou is not a complete lost cause. Hinata Shouyou is his...friend, and would look very pleasing in a small white toga. 

A quiet knock. “Kageyama?” 

Hinata Shouyou is at the door.

Tobio flips the lock and faces him before he wimps out and tries to squeeze through the bathroom window. “What?” 

“Are you sick?” Those damn brown eyes sweep over him. Finding nothing outwardly wrong with him, he pouts. “You’re gonna miss the best part. And it’s cold in there without your freakish warmth.” 

Tobio does not allow himself to focus on the fact that Hinata might also be blushing.

“I’m freakishly warm?” He rolls his eyes, if only to avoid meeting Hinata’s. “Stop following me around. If you’re cold, get a blanket.” 

Sticking his tongue out, Hinata shadows him back to the den. Their arms bump in a way that feels intentional. Tobio also does not allow himself to waste brain cells wondering if Hinata missed him, or if one of the upperclassmen had ordered him to check on his teammate.

It doesn’t matter. (It feels like it matters.)

Once Tobio is back on the couch, Hinata settles against him again, legs curled against his chest, hands tucked around his knees, sides _firmly_ touching and eyes _firmly_ on the screen and definitely not on each other. 

Tobio thinks he spends the rest of the movie focusing on the wall slightly above the screen. He doesn’t need any most distracting costumes to superimpose over Hinata’s distracting body. Hercules has grown up at this point, training montage under his belt. There’s a fight against a hydra, which Tobio assumes is the _best part_. Nishinoya and Sugawara try to mimic the muses’ choreography, until Sugawara almost trips and the spell over Daichi is broken, the flustered senior ordering them to sit back down. Tobio pays as much attention as he can, and slowly his hyper-awareness of Hinata fades into a persistent but pleasant weight, against his body and against his mind. His eyes drift around the room. Tanaka is asleep, head tipped back against Ennoshita’s legs. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi whisper quietly about something on Tsukishima’s phone. The others are still focused on the movie, even Asahi, though hides behind their libero when the music turns shrill and dangerous. Nishinoya doesn’t seem to mind. 

Tobio doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember the warm, floating feeling slowly sweeping through his limbs. He isn’t ready to fully dissect his feelings, to determine what it means, that he wants to brush his hands across Hinata’s bare skin. But this? Just this, just Hinata leaning against him and Tobio maybe leaning back, in the dark, safe amongst their team, is...nice. 

He could be okay like this.

#

“Should we wake them up?” 

Suga stops Daichi with one hand, the other one steadying the phone in his hand. “Absolutely not,” he whispers sharply, “I need at least ten pictures.”

An exasperated yet fond sigh. “That’s blackmail, vice captain.” 

A silver eyebrow arches, as if to say, _your point?_ Daichi admits defeat, leaning back so Suga can get a clear shot. 

Next to him, tucked in the corner of the couch, Kageyama sleeps with his head tipped against the back cushion, hair smeared across his forehead. All the tension in his body is gone, legs gone boneless, arms completely lax...and half-tangled around a certain orange-haired teammate. Hinata curls against the taller boy, cheek smashed against his chest, knees folded over Kageyama’s lap. It looks uncomfortable — they will both have horrible neck cramps, but neither third year makes any move to wake them up, even after Suga locks his phone and drops it back into his lap. 

“They’re almost...innocent,” he says softly. “Hard to believe they’ll be back to bickering on Monday.” 

Daichi is soft too, and not just towards duo. “They aren’t the only ones worn out.” He points to the other pair of first years, snoozing with a single pair of earbuds strung between them, and the puppy pile that is Noya and Tanaka, Asahi blinking sleepily beside them. “Should we call it a night?” 

“Maybe,” Suga hedges, mouth twitching. “Or we could watch one more.” He reaches under a pillow and pulls out _Aladdin._ His winks, and leans close enough he barely needs to whisper. “I’ll even let you be Jasmine this time.” 

Daichi goes completely red. “You’re a stone-cold villain,” he says faintly. “And no one ever believes me.” 

“And that’s the gospel truth,” Suga chirps, nudging a bleary Asahi with his foot and carefully tossing him the movie to switch out. 

If the rest of the team falls asleep by the time Aladdin rubs the lamp, and Suga kisses Daichi’s cheek and sings about _new worlds_ softly in his ear, well, no one will ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> every fic is a Daisuga fic if you try hard enough ( ◠‿◠ )
> 
> also in this house we love and protect confused horny tobio with all our hearts
> 
> thank you for reading! comments/kudos all appreciated very very deeply. stay safe, y'all. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/greenywrites)


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